When they Come
by Cmdr. Phantom
Summary: [JohnAeryn]  ...Because Crichton's plans never work the first time
1. Chapter 1

Title: When they Come  
Summary: ….because Crichton's plans never work the first time.  
Pairing: John/Aeryn  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: Up to Terra Firma (season 4)  
Season: It's sort of an A/U thing... because Scorpius ruins plans. So it's set sometime after they get back from Earth, but lets pretend Scorpius, Sikozu and Noranti mysteriously never showed up on Moya...  
A/N : This fic is finished. gasp I know. Don't all die of shock. There are only two interesting facts about this fic. One – It is my first EVER Farscape fic that I've written, so go easy. Two – I wrote it entirely at work. Instead of actually working.

For Bubbles.

---------

_When they come… So will __I__."_

John Crichton stared out of his third story window, his eyes searching back and forth, almost as if he were trying to see through the high-rises blocking his view of the horizon.

Behind him, across a small hall in another room, pictures flashed across his tv screen. Death. Destruction. Suffering. A muffled voice kept a running commentary of the horrors.

John had seen it all before of course. The news report was like a "this is your life" movie, relaying his past in a full coloured nightmare, complete with sound.

_"They will not stop hunting you."_

He ignored the television and it's flash backs into his life, just like he ignored the insistent ringing of his telephone, his eyes still outside, looking for something he couldn't possibly see.

His own voice filled the small room, his answering machine had clicked over after the sixth unanswered ring. A shrill tone made him wince, then someone started to speak.

"John, are you there? It's me... Clayton."

A thirty-eight year old balding man with a tendency to eat with his mouth full and call Crichton 'pip-squeak', Clayton had been John's most constant companion since he'd gotten back.

"John?"

John was sure it wasn't because Clayton found his company particularly appealing. He knew his father had been keeping an eye on him. He knew they all thought he was out of his mind.

"Okay... well look, they want to talk to you. You were right, John. About everything. They want you to finish what you started."

John snorted. _Now_ they wanted his help? John finally tore his eyes away from the window to stare with distain at the answering machine. He had told them long ago he was the _only_ person on this planet who knew what they were dealing with. The only one...

Unless...

"Call us John. There isn't much time. If you are right... if it's really going to happen like you said, we don't have a lot of time. They're pretty freaked down here. It's a mad house."

A pause, and a mumbled voice.

"Wait... Your dad says he's coming over. He doesn't think we should wait."

John reached over and picked up the phone, "Clayton? Tell Dad to stay put, I'm coming."

----

_"Come with me."  
__"You know I won't."  
__"Why not?"  
__"Because... we don't _fit_ John... we've been through this... And don't say you want to stay. You've got to prepare them. They need you down there." A soft hand held his face, fingers stroking his cheek, "More then I do. When they come... so will I."_

John squinted at the equation in front of him, his head slowly shaking back and forth, "This is wrong."

'I'm sorry?" She must have just been out of College, young features betraying her concern, soft blue eyes staring at him under dark lashes.

He pointed, "There." His finger moved, "And here."

It had been three days since the phone call. Three long days filled with simulations and speculations and calculations... and horror and children screaming, both inside of John's head and out.

He hadn't slept more then a handful of hours. During the time he was awake, his knowledge of what was to come kept his body full of adrenalin, letting him push himself against his own boundaries, breaking through barriers and going further. His own experiences fuelled the drive to keep him going.

And those times when his body collapsed with exhaustion , when he was so tired he literately couldn't keep his eyes open, he fell into sleep full of images. Memories of a time long past, mostly full of that which was ravaging Earth as he slept.

Waking from sleep that was far from restful, John continued to work.

-----

_"You have to believe me."  
__"It's not that we don't believe you John… it's just that... well... we don't believe you."  
__"I'm not crazy."  
__"We never said you were."  
__"They are coming! _Here. _Hunting me.__ And they won't stop until they have found me, and then..."  
__"Then they will wipe us out anyway, yes John, you've said."_

"This should have been done two years ago." John pointed out, running his hand across his face, "If you'd _listened_ to me in the first place..."

"I know John." His father, who had been a hesitant supporter of his son since he'd returned to Earth, nodded sedately. He'd been listening to 'I told you so's.' all week, "But it's working now..."

"No." John cut him off abruptly, blood shot eyes shooting up at his fathers, "No. This is only temporary... an interim measure for the advanced guard. It won't keep them away for good."

"And... and your ship? It's still coming right? Are you sure they haven't abandoned you?"

"Moya dad. Her name is Moya and yes. When she gets here, she'll fix everything. That was the plan." John closed his eyes and took a breath.

Moya. She was coming. They'd promised.

"But we've got to be ready." He spoke each word slowly, as if it would somehow register better then the past hundred or so other times he'd mentioned it.

"We're working as fast as we can." Jack told his son patiently.

"It won't be enough." John responded quietly.

-----

3 Years Ago

Aeryn Sun eyed the end of the corridor down the barrel of her pulse pistol, ignoring the flickering lights in the dim space, barely breathing.

An explosion rocked the structure, debris floating down from the ceiling to coat everything in a fine dust. Aeryn distractedly ran a hand through her hair, dislodging all but the most stubborn flecks, wishing for nothing more then for this particular campaign to be over so she could get back to Moya.

Behind her, John Crichton mirrored her stance, the hand not tightly gripping his weapon wrapped protectively around her middle. Ever since learning of her pregnancy, John's hands rarely strayed from her person. She may have found it irritating, but his paternal concern was too endearing for her to entertain annoyance for long. Especially since they still did not know who the father was.

Aeryn shifted her grip, when another explosion, closer this time, threw them both off balance. The hand holding his pulse pistol slammed against the wall to brace himself, John tightening his grip on Aeryn so they both stayed upright.

He moved his lips behind her ear, "That was the south passage."

She nodded agreement as John's gun arm trained back on the end of the corridor, which bent sharply to the right. There were two things that could come around that corner - one of which would mean the end of life for both of them.

A moment passed. Aeryn could feel John's heart thumping against her back. Or was that her own? John's fingers moved absently across her flat belly, betraying his tension. They heard a duller explosion somewhere behind them, but they both ignored it, every sense focused on the end of the corridor.

They heard him a split second before they saw him, large heavy foot falls and rasping breath. D'argo rounded the corner at a dead run, his hand catching the opposite wall to help him around it without loosing too much speed.

"Move!"

In only a handful of footsteps he was next to them, but they were all ready moving.

Aeryn didn't need to look behind her. She knew what was there, nipping at their heels. A flash memory of it's violent capabilities, and she found another burst of speed. They rounded another bend and entered a large circular cavern. Aeryn knew most of the rock was artificial, but the design was so flawless she couldn't determine what had been pre-made by the indigenous species on this planet, and where nature took over.

D'argo hesitated only a moment, then took off down one of the varying exits of the cavern. The room may have once been used as a command post, but had long since been abandoned and vandalised to a point beyond recognition. John and Aeryn followed, trusting the Luxan to know their escape route. If he was wrong, they could very well be stuck traversing the immense maze of rock for the rest of their lives.

Not that that would be very long.

They entered another room, this one square, with only one other entrance directly opposite the one they'd come through. It was smaller then the cavern they'd been in earlier, and this one was bustling with activity.

A young female, bald and with eyes a dark indigo colour and skin as pale as moonlight ran to John, her hands holding a small box object with a rainbow mix of colours playing back and forth in a never ending shifting pattern, "It's ready." She was breathless, her voice soft with a slight twist to her words.

John didn't waste time, taking the object and placing his palm on top of the cube. It warmed to his touch, getting hotter, then suddenly it burned. Wincing in pain, he kept his hand there.

"Goddamn." He cursed through gritted teeth as the smell of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils. The pain seared up his arm as his hand started to shake with the effort. And then, when he could stand it no longer, Aeryn was by his side, clamping her hand down on top of his like a vice.

They shared a brief look; he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her in thanks for the help, or kill her for the pain she was now responsible for.

The cube let out a shrill whistle, rising in pitch.

"Throw it!"

John complied with the command as the device got louder, piercing the air with it's sound. He lobbed it back down the corridor they had come from, his eyes opening wide as their pursuer rounded the last corner and caught sight of the room.

"D'argo! Door!"

D'argo flicked a switch on the console in front of him, a large steel door slamming into place mere seconds before the assailant cleared the threshold.

A handful of heartbeats. Silence. No one dared breathe.

The explosion that followed knocked them all off their feet. The ground shuddered; the roof creaked as support beams weakened. The light dust of before was replaced by chunks of rock and dirt. John, his hand still searing, had the wind knocked out of him as a large bolder struck him on the back.

The intermittent power finally gave up its struggle and plunged the room into darkness.

More moments passed. The structure continued a sort of death song as it seemed to slowly die. The cracking of support beams and cascading rocks alerting John to the fact that they had to leave as soon as possible. He sat up, trying to get his bearings, but only darkness greeted him.

"Aeryn?"

Silence.

"D'argo?" He coughed, trying to dislodge the litre of sand he'd inhaled, when he heard movement to his left. He crawled on his knees and his one good hand, not yet trusting his legs, "Aeryn?!"

"Commander?"

It was Lindell, the indigenous girl with the eyes that seemed to reach into John's soul whenever he'd looked into them.

"Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

John assessed himself quickly. Nothing seemed broken, although his hand felt like it was still on fire, "No, I'm fine. You?"

"I'm not hurt."

John nodded, mostly to himself, and then tried to stand. A sure hand grabbed his upper arm, "Wha...?"

"I can see in the darkness." Lindell told him, surprising strength under her lithe form as she helped him stand.

"Can you see Aeryn and D'argo?"

"I'm here." Aeryn's voice came from the darkness to his right, "And..." she grunted, and John pictured her moving a plank of debris to free herself, "I'm fine."

"I think the Luxan is unconscious."

"Great." John's eyeroll was lost in the darkness.

Lindell helped John navigate the rubble strewn room, and they quickly assessed D'argo's injuries. She declared that while he'd probably sport a nice bruise on his forehead when he woke up, the Luxan would live. While his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, John worked his way to the steel door, which had been warped by the explosion, leaving a big enough opening for him to squeeze through.

Aeryn followed, achieving the same movement with a great deal more grace, a fact which John took paused to admire before turning and focusing on the hallway.

The creature that had been following them lay on the ground a few feet from the entranceway of the room John and Aeryn had just vacated, a guttering torch throwing a ghoulish light across the small corridor. From outward appearances, the creature appeared unhurt, almost as if it had just suddenly decided to lay down and rest in amongst the debris cluttering the corridor.

The alien was a dark shade, a motley collection of greys and blacks and reds. Hair sprouted at irregular intervals across it's entire body, and it was clothed in what John associated with Monk robes, minus the hood. He approached it warily, his pulse pistol Wynona clutched tightly in his hand, not that it would do much good, but he felt better for having it anyway. He and Aeryn stopped at the creatures head, and one baleful eye stared up at them.

"So this is it, John Crichton" It hissed inside of his head, the creatures mouth not moving. Although the strange telepathic aliens had disconcerted him at first, John was now used to it talking inside of his brain.

"I warned you." John responded coldly.

"And I you." The creature seemed to spasm, and John saw pain behind it's eye.

"I didn't destroy your world." John knelt down so he was inches from the eye. He stared directly into it, "Go tell your mind-link buddies that it ends here."

John detected mirth in his head. The creature was actually laughing at him, "Wrong, John Crichton. It has just begun. They will not stop hunting you." A pause. "It has been decided then. A world for a world. They will destroy that which you..."

John blinked rapidly: he could actually feel the alien die in his head before the mind-link was terminated. His eyes closed briefly as he tried to shake off the decisively odd sensation, "What did he mean by that?"

"She." Aeryn corrected him with a tug of a smile on her lips, "And 'a world for a world'? Sounds self explanatory to me."

"I don't _have_ a world." John reminded her as he got back to his feet, "Not in these guys neighbourhood anyway."

They negotiated their way back into the room, "The Molarens are a patient race." She stopped just before the mangled door and looked him directly in the eye, "_Very_ patient." She seemed to pause, as if gauging his reaction to her words, seeing if he actually believed her before she went on, her voice muffled as she twisted her body around the small opening in the doorway, "If it takes 30 cycles to get to Earth, they'll take 30 cycles."

"But I didn't _do_ anything."

They entered the room as an electronic buzz invaded the small space. Moments later the lights flickered back on, and John was finally able to asses the damage they'd caused.

His original assessment has been correct. The walls weren't going to hold up much longer.

He and Aeryn helped move the dead and wounded from the enclosed space, heading through the second doorway back onto the surface of the planet.

"Okay, so here's what I know." John spoke conversationally to Aeryn, D'argo's limp body slung between them. His injured hand was wrapped tightly in bandages, a soothing balm had been applied and he could literately feel his skin healing, "We stumble into the middle of a war between these mind reading buddies, and the scary eye guys."

"The Molarens and the Pupdar." Aeryn supplied.

"Right. So we choose to join the Puppies, 'cause the other guys are a shoot first ask questions later type, and really, I never liked those. So after a bit of fighting, The Puppies pull out this fandangle bomb that messes with the mind-reading guys heads and eventually kills them. And these mind-reading guys think _I_ have something to do with it..."

"Because the bomb didn't show up until we did."

"Exactly. So now, the mind-reading guys are hell bent on revenge against me, and they're going to take the fight back to Earth. Which means..." John and Aeryn reached the outside, lowering D'argo's body against a large, sliver tree that disappeared into the cloud cover above, "I have about thirty cycles to get back to Earth and warn them."

"Not even half that, actually."

Aeryn and John both spun around. The woman, Lindell, was a few feet away, staunching the blood of what looked like an old man with a jagged tare down his right leg.

"What do you mean?"

"The Molarens... the mind-link species we have been at war with. If they've targeted your world Commander, it won't take them 30 cycles to reach it. A closely guarded secret of theirs is advanced space flight... a trip like that could take them as little as three cycles."

John paused, a thousand implications coming to him at once. He and Moya's crew had only been on the planet for a dozen of solar days, and he already knew the extent of the Molarens destructive capabilities. He'd watched entire cities burn in a matter of arns. They were relentless, cruel victors with little in the way of morality.

And they were virtually impossible to kill with pulse weapons.

The way the Pupdar had explained it, the Molarens were, as a rule, a peaceful species who liked to keep to themselves, trading with only a select few 'outsiders'.

However, honour was a big thing among them. Insults were not taken likely, and retaliation was swift. John wasn't exactly sure what the Pupdar had done, but he knew it couldn't be worth the destruction that had ensued.

And he couldn't, even for a microt, contemplate what would happen if they got hold of Earth.

"Alright then. So I have three cycles to get back to Earth." John spoke fast, under no illusions about what needed to be done, "Lindell, I'm going to need one of those bombs your people made. We can stop them the same way you did."

"Crichton, how can you possibly expect to ..." Aeryn paused, "You're going to use the Wormhole again, aren't you? To get back to Earth in under three cycles."

John, who up until that moment had had scenario after scenario running through his head on the best way to repel the attacks against his home planet, stopped, resting a gentle hand on Aeryn's arm, "I can't just leave them. I have to go back. This is my fault and I have to warn them."

Aeryn understood, but it didn't mean she had to like the idea, "You said so yourself, last time it was a miracle they didn't have you locked away. Not to mention the fact that you can't even control the wormholes properly, you could end up..."

"Aeryn." He said her name forcefully, cutting her off mid-sentence, "It'll be okay." His hand moved to cup her cheek, his soft eyes staring into her's, "When I explain what's going on, they'll understand. And," he pulled away quickly, not quite looking at her, "I'm much better at the whole wormhole thing now."

Aeryn looked doubtful as John knelt next to Lindell, "That bomb your people made. The one that kills them first go. You think I could get my hands on one of them?"

Lindell shook her head, "It takes cycles to generate the necessary power Commander. My people have a long history with the Molarens, we knew these attacks were just a matter of time, and we were prepared. It will take time and work to prepare the bomb."

"How _much_ time and work?"

"Depending on the help? A cycle, maybe two."

John closed his eyes. They would be cutting this all very fine, "And the structures on the planet?"

The young woman held up her palms, pressing her thumb and middle finger together, a gesture John had come to interpret as a shrug, "Another few cycles."

John let out a frustrated breath through his mouth. That did it then. He wouldn't have enough time to help the Pupdar's put together the weapon, and make sure Earth was prepared sufficiently for a world wide delivery like they had done here.

The solution, in the end, was simple.

--------

D'argo has come up with it, his words slurred from his spot against the tree, the blow to the head causing his words to come out slowly and precisely.

But they had figured out what he was proposing quickly enough.

John didn't like it. He was sure Aeryn didn't either, but they both had to concede it was a good plan, one that made sense and even had a little bit of logic thrown in, something John knew _his_ plans weren't famous for.

John would go back to Earth. As quickly as possible. From there, he would be able to co-ordinate the mammoth effort of getting his entire planet to pull together to set up a delivery system of the device that would kill the Molarens. Earth was aware of aliens now, he didn't think it would be too much of a stretch to convince them that a few were hell bent on destroying them all for no real apparent reason.

He hoped.

The rest of Moya's crew would stay behind, and do all they could to help with the production of the device. Lindell explained about the myriad of supplies from different locations around the universe that they'd need. Moya would be a invaluable asset.

After the clean up back on the planet, John returned to Moya and spent the next three arns calculating a wormhole to Earth in three cycles that Moya would be able to get a lift in on. This was the biggest problem he had with the plan. Three cycles was a very long time. Any number of anomalies could crop up between now and then, and he wouldn't be around to adjust for them. Moya could end up anywhere. His concerns however where not shared by the rest of the crew. Their faith in his abilities seemed to be far more solid then his own... something else that surprised him.

There was one other real problem he had with the plan.

John found Aeryn in their sleeping chamber. It was actually her bedroom, but he spent so much time with her now in his mind it had transformed into 'theirs'.

Sat on the floor, she had his notebook in her lap, her eyes scanning the first scratchings of wonder he's pencilled down when he'd first arrived.

Ever since their small stay on Earth, her grasp of the written English word had progressed that she was now pouring over every bit of literature he had, most of which she had haltingly read before, now able to comprehend so much more.

"Hey."

His soft voice brought her head up, and she smiled at him, "You know, I never realised you thought this stuff about me." She gestured to the book, and John felt his cheeks warm.

"Yeah... well that was a long time ago." He sat down next to her, back against the wall, his fingers keeping themselves occupied with each other so he could concentrate on them and not have to look at her. "Check's are pretty much done. Wormhole opens in a bout an arn and a half."

Aeryn lay the notebook gently on the floor beside her, turning her head to look at him, "So this is it." She echoed the dying Molarens words, commanding his attention to her.

He studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction to his impending departure, but her face was a stony mask, enough of an indication that she was upset. Aeryn had learnt a while ago that showing emotion wasn't the end all that she had been originally taught, but she was still a master at masking it. Especially from him.

"Come with me."

Aeryn smiled. Soft, tolerant, "You know I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't belong on Earth. That planet and I...we don't_ fit_ John. We've been through this... And don't say you want to stay. You've got to prepare them. They need you down there." A soft hand held his face, fingers stroking his cheek, "More then I do."

She paused as he grabbed her hand, turning his face to kiss her palm.

"When they come... so will I. I promise you."

He looked into her eyes, then grabbed the collar of her shirt, tugging her towards him. In a swift, practised movement, Aeryn swung her legs over his and straddled him, his legs lay stretched out in front of him. He shifted forward enough for her to wrap her legs behind him, his arms resting against her hips.

He reached forwards, his tongue snaking out to probe the pulse against her neck. Aeryn's eyes fluttered shut as John worked lips and tongue to good advantage. His teeth nibbled gently on her earlobe, and then he breathed into her ear, "Wait for me."

Aeryn pulled away, her brows knotted together quizzically, "What?"

He stared up into her eyes, his fingers gently teasing the strip of bare flesh where her pants met her shirt, "Wait for me...until I get back."

"For three cycles?" she asked, amusement edging her words, "Without this?" Her hips shifted, and a low moan escaped John's lips, who suddenly realised that his leather pants where far too unforgiving.

His hands tightened against her hips, stilling her, "That's not nice."

Aeryn grinned in a way John could only describe as wicked, her tongue snaking out to lick her top lip, when suddenly John's hand moved down to where their bodies joined.

Aeryn's fingers dug into his shoulders, and her hips shifted again, grinding against him, causing a strangled grunt from the back of Johns throat. He stopped the movement of his fingers, and Aeryn let out a breath, settling back against his thighs.

She lent her forehead against his, eyes shining, and then she kissed him hungrily.

John never received an answer to his question.


	2. Chapter 2

Present Day

John's eyes snapped open. The recollection of his last days on Moya had played through his dreams for so many nights now it was no longer just a distant memory with faint images.

He re-lived it. Though he slept, his mind was taken back to those familiar surroundings, and he felt every sensation. The adrenalin of running for his life. Anger. Fear for his countrymen. The burn on his hand from holding one of the make-shift devices. The unrelenting sun beating down upon him.

The soft sounds of the Pupdar weeping for their dead. The days of struggling with bodies as they helped clean up. The utter desolation that he felt at the carnage and destruction.

The pain at having to leave his friends. The cold, soundless halls of Moya's interior. Chinana's tearful goodbye.

Aeryn.

His body still tingled. He could still feel her soft lips against his. If he closed his eyes, he could taste her. His body ached with longing for her. He missed her.

With a sigh, John got out of bed, running his hand over his face. Weeks had passed, and still not even a hint that Moya was coming. He was starting to get a sinking suspicion deep within his gut that maybe they wouldn't be. That perhaps something had happened to them.

Three years was a long time.

He realised, now of course, how stupid their plan had been. Putting so much faith in good luck. Trusting that nothing horrendous would befall Moya or her crew for three whole years. He remembered a time when they couldn't go a week without running across another disaster.

But without Moya, the Earth was doomed.

The Molaren's advanced scout, which was what had caused the panicked phone call over a month ago, had been effectively destroyed. It seemed the advanced life form was immune to pulse weapons, but was decidedly more vulnerable to 'projectile weapons'. The small pocket of troops had caused enough destruction to wake up the rest of the world and fast-track John's initial plan to build a planet wide defence platform.

All they needed now was the device. The one that Moya's crew had been working on.

He was already starting to feel pressure from the other nations. They'd done his bidding, spent millions of dollars on labour and materials, all on the faith that a spaceship would drop from the sky and deliver them all.

If Moya didn't show, John knew he'd never be able to show his face in polite society again. They'd probably lock him away. The only comfort he took from that thought was if it did come to that... the Molarens would be here to wipe them out soon after, so his social standing wouldn't matter very much.

His days were spent at a make shift command post, a warehouse they'd commissioned and set up to co-ordinate the world wide participation. He'd spent almost a year developing and tweaking the system, to the specifics the Pupdars had given him. Thirty-Eight strategically placed towers across the globe would relay the frequency required to, and to quote D'argo's eloquent phrasing, 'melt their brains'. He'd done the math, he knew it would work. But only if...

The high pitched shrill of a distant phone brought John out of his musing. If he spent half the time he did thinking about Moya and what exactly would happen if his former companions didn't show up on designing his own weapon, he'd probably have found a way to reach the Molarens in space by now.

John lent over his desk and scanned the progress reports. Everything seemed to be almost complete. He really had no idea how far ahead of the main army the advance scout had come, but at least now they were ready if..._when_ Moya...

His phone buzzed and sighing John picked it up, "Crichton."

"John." The voice on the other end of the phone was instantly recognizable. Even if John hadn't known the man as well as he did, there was no mistaking the crisp, military pomp, "I need you in my office." A short pause, "Now."

"Sure thing Harry." John pulled himself from his chair, "Want me to bring pretzels?"

The dial tone answered him.

With another sigh, this one directed to the humour the military side of his race seemed to lack, John walked stiffly down the end of his building where all the officers kept their offices. A glance at his watch told him he'd been sitting at that desk for five hours straight. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly he could loose time when he was working.

John entered the sparse office. Only a temporary measure, Major General Harry Blake spent as little time in it as possible, and it showed by the total lack of adornment in the room. A small, serviceable desk commanded most of the space, a handful of chairs the rest, and a large, potted plant in the far right hand corner.

John wondered who the General paid to water it.

The General was seated behind his desk, the only real sign of the rooms occupation was the leather monstrosity Harry had procured as a chair.

An image of Mr. Burns at the head of his table, towered by a mammoth of a chair and flanked by two growling, vicious dogs flashed through John's mind and he couldn't help but smile. Harry fit the role of rich tyrant almost better then the cartoon character.

"Commander." Harry greeted him, "We need to talk."

"Uh-oh." John mumbled as he sat across from the other man, "Now I'm in trouble."

The General ignored him, and gestured to a manila folder that sat on the desk between him without commenting. John opened it to a photograph of what looked like thousands of off-white blurry dots against a dark blue/black backdrop. John blinked quizzically, then slowly moved the photograph back until it was his entire arm length away and it suddenly jumped into focus.

Bad focus, but focus just the same.

The object was almost transparent, the lines blurry and the quality terrible... but their was no mistaking the shape.

Moya.

Or, a Leviathan, at any rate. John's heart rate went up a notch.

"Where is she?" his voice sounded strange to his ears.

"In orbit." The General came back smoothly.

John's eyes flicked up, confused, "How long?"

The General didn't even blink, "A week."

John's eyes were back on the photograph of his former home, but his body was tense. He had a feeling where this conversation was going, and he tried very hard to control his temper. The next words were forced out through gritted teeth, "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Contrary to popular belief," The General started, and John got the feeling this speech was something Harry had been planning for a long time, "You are _not_ the head of this operation Commander. The presence of that spaceship is strictly a need to know... and, up until now, you, frankly, just didn't need to know. Let's just say, we didn't want you distracted from your current projects."

John laughed, the bitter laugh of someone who realises he's been screwed over, "They're here, aren't they? On Earth. Aeryn and D'argo have been here, on Earth, for a week. And you didn't tell me. And now..." John finally looked up again, anger flashing from his eyes, "Now, you want me to go talk to them. Because they won't talk to you."

"I think you underestimate your countries power of persuasion."

John was on his feet, not even quite sure how he had managed it so fast, arms bracing himself against the desk as he leaned over it, his face inches from the Generals, "What the hell did you do to them? If you've touched any of them I'll..."

A finger came up, directly in front of John's face, and the General's voice was hard, "John. Do not make the mistake of threatening a United States General. Your _friends_..." the word came out condescending, "...are fine. What I want to make very clear to you," his hand reached out, pushing against John's shoulder. He let himself be pushed back into his chair, barely controlling the urge to launch himself at Harry to have it out. The older man was playing him, he knew. Deliberately aggravating him. Proving, once again, just who was in command and in control, "...is that we don't _need_ you anymore John. You are here out of courtesy for the assistance you provided. But we have want we need from you, and I'd be very happy to show you the front door if you give me reason."

"So why are you letting me see them now?"

Then General stood, "Because they asked, Commander. And we are nothing if not accommodating to our guests. Join me?"

John slowly got to his feet, his head spinning. A whole week. As he followed the General across the warehouse floor to the outside, his eyes bored holes in the other mans back. He thought of all the lovely things he could do to Harry to express his gratitude for the information they'd thought to finally give him.

The Aurora chair flashed to mind, and then Scorpius' neuro chip. John suppressed a smile as he pictured Harry with Harvey in his head. Or, better yet, John himself. He was sure he could make the General's life hell if he lived in his head.

They walked across a small car park, to a waiting limo and escort where Harry handed John over into the care of his assistant, a no nonsense woman in a business suit who didn't even acknowledge John's attempt at a hand shake. The vindictive thoughts stayed in his head well into the drive, before they finally gave way to thoughts of reuniting with Moya's crew again.

To Aeryn.

---

The ride was short. John bristled to think how close they had all been for seven whole days. The aliens had been housed on the Air Force base, in a secure location out of the way of general traffic. They were in a series of town houses, Harry's assistant explained like she was reading from a text book, fully contained twin bedroom allotments, with a communal courtyard they shared meals in. The government was keeping them top secret, even from the other nations that were currently awaiting news of their arrival.

John took it as a small comfort that he wasn't the only one being screwed over by his people.

He was escorted from the communal car park towards the houses. Apparently the Air Force kept this area off limits to everyone when they wanted to keep their secrets hidden. Although the surrounding houses had nice, kept lawns, there wasn't a soul for miles.

John got to the gate and swung it open, when a door to the far right hand side of the row of buildings flung open. John's head snapped up, and Chiana let out a war cry that could have woken the dead. She cleared the stairs in one leap, took maybe five more and launched herself at him.

They fell back in a tangle of limbs, Chiana's legs wrapping around his middle, his arms supporting her back. He hit the concrete walkway with a thud, his grunt mixing in with Chiana's squeal of delight. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck, stopping the downward momentum of his neck before his head hit the pavement, then she pressed her cheek tightly against his.

She may have spoken, but John didn't hear it, holding on to his friend, hoping she didn't feel his tears against her cheek. A tidal wave of emotion hit him, his grin nearly splitting his face as he pulled away to talk to her, "Hey! Long time no see."

"I missed you Crichton."

John freed a hand, reaching up to wipe the tear trailing down Chiana's face, "I missed you too, Pip. Though I _did_ start to think you wouldn't be coming. You missed the wormhole date."

Chiana disentangled herself from him and as they stood the towering shadow of D'argo engulfed them. "Crichton." Was D'argo's stoic greeting, holding out his arm. John took it, his palm against D'argo's wrist, then brought the older man forward to embrace him.

"It is good to see you, friend."

"You too D'argo." John looked up, noticed the other two doors closed and looked pointedly at D'argo, "So... you and Chiana again huh?"

D'argo chuckled as the door next to the house that Chiana and D'argo shared opened and Rygel, his small body suspended on his hoverthrone, floated sedately from his temporary dwelling.

The reunion with the Hynerian was about as warm and joyous as John could have expected - Rygels complaints about him taking so long started before the pleasantries had even fully left John's mouth. What surprised him though was Stark. The crazy little man had, apparently, reunited with the group almost a full year after John had left. They'd found him on one of the many planets they had visited during their scramble for supplies to develop the bomb.

Stark's mental health had deteriorated a surprising amount though, even for him, and no one was quite sure what had happened to him during his time away.

John didn't have time to be worried about it. Even while delighted at seeing the old gang again, there was really only one person he wanted to see. His eyes kept glancing to the third and final townhouse, whose door had stayed shut through out the reunion.

There was no way Aeryn could not know he was there.

The others let him go with minimal fuss, although he did notice Chiana acting a little strange from the corner of his eye. He hadn't let himself think that anything could have gone wrong with Aeryn, but he suddenly wondered if perhaps they knew something he didn't.

D'argo had wanted to talk to him, said there were a few things that needed explaining, but John would rather hear it from Aeryn.

He didn't really care. He just needed to see her.

He took the steps two at a time, and the door opened as he approached. The occupant was in shadow, and took a few steps back so John could enter. He closed the door behind him, took a breath, trying to dissipate the mix of emotion swimming inside of him, and turned around.

-----

Aeryn Sun was not as John remembered her. Years of dreams and images and their reunion had played themselves over in John's head, and not once has this situation occurred to him. Not once allowed himself to even entertain the idea that the woman he'd left behind would not be the one he returned to.

His first thoughts were of denial. This wasn't _his_ Aeryn. It was a replica, a clone, somebodies sick joke of dress up. His second thoughts were of foul play. An alien had transformed her. Frelled her over. There was a way to fix it, all they had to do was catch the slimy bastard.

In his mind, somehow, for whatever reason, the woman he loved had not really changed into a twelve year old girl.

John stared at her for an eternity. And her soft, soulful eyes stared back. Familiar eyes, but not those of his lover. Those eyes he knew better then his own reflection. Through those eyes he'd read her soul, knew her to the core of her being.

The girl in front of him had an air of innocence about her. Still tough, still hard like he would expect from Aeryn, but her eyes gave her away. The weight of the world, and the strength of Aeryn's character didn't shine from the eye's before him.

John's heart ached all the same. Who ever she was, whatever she was, her resemblance to Aeryn was striking. She was very much what John would have pictured Aeryn to look like as a child.

And he missed Aeryn.

So captivated with the miniature version of a Peacekeeper in front of him, John missed the figure standing in shadow behind her. Missed the way she watched the interaction very closely. Watched the way John reacted with a great deal of interest.

It was only a handful of heartbeats between John entering the room, and the woman in the shadows making her presences known - long enough however for John to come up with a thousand different idea's on who the girl was; dismiss them all, and actually come up with the right answer.

"Her name's Leslie"

John's eyes flicked up, and the girl cocked her head in the direction of the voice behind her, not actually taking her eyes off John. When she spoke, John's microbes translated her voice with the same unusual tinge as the woman she addressed, "Is he the one?"

"John Crichton." Aeryn confirmed, taking a few more steps forward to stand next to the girl. Side by side, John noticed more differences between them - different shape to the noise, slightly different pull of her mouth... Enough that he realised the girl wasn't a twin...

The silenced stretched, and Aeryn seemed nervous, her eyes trying to judge John's reaction.

If she was expecting anything, she was disappointed. John continued to stare in a sort of mute trance, taking in the two women in front of him, his eyes roaming over both of them, though they lingered on Aeryn longer.

His body ached to touch her, to make sure she was real, but the presence of the girl held him back. He wasn't even sure who she was.

"That was my mother's name."

Aeryn nodded, confirming his statement with a quiet 'yes'. He waited, but there was no more. No other source. Being an Earth name, and being the only Earthling Aeryn knew, he hadn't really expected it to have come from anywhere else. He'd wanted to be sure.

"Is she..." he couldn't finish the sentence. There was something about the entire situation too surreal for him to wrap his head around. He was standing in front of the woman he loved, the woman he hadn't seen in three years, and he was making small talk.

In the Dream Version of this moment, his arms were wrapped around her and he was reacquainting himself with her body. Intimately.

"She's my child."

John had known. It was the conclusion he'd come to all on his own. The one that didn't make any sense.

"How Aeryn? You've only been gone three years... three cycles. You're what?" he directed his question to Leslie, "Twelve?" his focus shifted again, "I know you think humans are pretty dumb Aeryn, but I can count."

He felt her tense. He hadn't meant to sound so defensive, but after being screwed around by his own people, he'd expected... well, he wasn't sure what he'd expected from his former shipmates, but being played with hadn't been on the cards.

"Six." She spoke the word between gritted teeth, staring John down. His reaction to her news obviously wasn't what she'd been expecting either, "You've been gone six _years_ Crichton." She stressed the Earth word, "Not three."

"Six? I think I would know if you'd been gone six years. I counted every day you weren't by my side." He realised the statement made him sound pathetic and not at all manly, but he didn't care, "It's not possible."

"Trust me Crichton. It's very possible." Her voice was laced with bitterness, and the accusation in her eyes would register much later when he replayed this moment in his head for the thousandth time weeks from now, "Look, we went to the co-ordinates you gave us, when you told us too. There was no wormhole. We went again, a cycle later. Still nothing. And so we tried again, one last time. We thought you were dead... we were going to give up."

Give up?

"If you thought I was dead, why did you keep trying?"

It was Leslie that answered, "The Pupdar insisted. Told us that there still might be something to salvage." The girl glanced up at her mother, "Your body, at least."

"That's just great." John shook his head in wonderment, anger and confusion still itching under his skin. His brain however had suddenly kicked into overdrive, "Why did the wormhole spurt you out now? Instead of three years later when Earth resembles the ending of the battle of Troy? You know..." he was rambling now, he knew, but Aeryn was used to keeping up with his disjointed thoughts, "It does make an insane amount of sense. Wormholes effect time as well as space. With all the variables that can crop up in three years, it's a miracle I even came close." He looked Aeryn in the eye, "Do you know how lucky I am that the wormhole you hitched a ride on dropped you off in this now, instead of a very later now when I'm not even around to send you home?"

Aeryn didn't respond, but Leslie was watching John with a deep frown across her forehead. He'd obviously lost her.

"Do you think the Pupdar knew? That the wormhole you caught would send you back in time?"

"I don't think so..."

Leslie finished her mothers thought, "... No one knows about Wormholes in our galaxy. We spent a whole cycle searching for someone to tell us how to get here." She rounded childish eyes on Aeryn, a pout forming on her bottom lip, "I thought they'd never give it up."

"Still?" John ran a tired hand over his face. Agitation was still visible in the set of his shoulders, but most of his anger had dissipated, "You'd think after six years _someone_ would have figured it out by now."

Aeryn didn't bother pointing out how singular John's experience had been in learning the wormhole knowledge. Neither did she point out how there was no one else in the universe who would be crazy enough to obsess over it the way he had for four cycles.

"Alright." John moved, dropping himself onto a cream coloured lounge chair in a cramped living room that was off the right. Leslie followed sitting opposite, while Aeryn sat on the floor by her feet, back resting against the chair, "So say I believe you..."

Aeryn tensed.

"...That still doesn't explain how mini-you over there looks twice her age."

"Advanced growth hormones." The ice had returned to Aeryns voice, "Infants are of use to no one in a war."

"You accelerate their development?"

"For the first seven cycles." Leslie explained, "Peacekeeper genetics rapidly advance for the first three cycles, until they're old enough to start training. A slightly slower growth rate continues for another four."

"She'll be the equivalent of a fifteen cycle old human at the end of the seven cycles."

"You get seven years to experience childhood?" John spoke in disbelief, "That sucks."

Leslie snorted, "Hardly. Peacekeeper children are under strict military regime from the moment they're born. Their 'childhood' is an intense training period where they cram as much military tactics and fighter training they can manage."

John's eyes flicked to Aeryn, "Tell me you didn't subject her to that?"

Finally, a smile graced Aeryn's lips, "If you taught me nothing Crichton, I realise the Peacekeepers idea of child rearing wasn't exactly... ideal."

John nodded, his eyes still on her. Their eyes locked, and Aeryn's smile dropped. He was about to speak when a loud thudding sounded on Aeryn's front door.

Leslie was up and opening it before John and Aeryn were even on their feet.

The General's aid stood at the threshold, and any conversation John had wanted with Aeryn in private was lost.

-------

Alright.. I have to sleep. PLEASE review (because I crave them so). I'll throw up the rest of the fic on the morrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Blake had played his moves well. John felt like a pawn piece, strategically manoeuvred into a corner that he couldn't escape from.

For the week that they'd been on Earth, Aeryn had played the role of mediator between his people and the Pupdar representative, seeing as how she and Leslie were the only ones who spoke fluent English out of Moya's crew. John had masked his surprise at learning that Aeryn had taught her daughter _his_ language and not her own. It was another piece to a fairly complicated puzzle that he really wanted to sit Aeryn down and discuss. It wasn't making any sense.

However, since she'd started helping with the final stages of the device, it only made sense for her to continue. John and Aeryn hadn't had a moment alone since.

The General had made sure that John stayed far away from the project as possible, and a request - in the form of an order he couldn't refuse - had come through asking for John to play tour guide to his old shipmates. Stuck for a week on a rock with no way to communicate had left everyone a little edgy, and he couldn't really abandon them, no matter how desperately he wanted access to both Aeryn and the bomb.

John still couldn't figure out the real reason behind it. Harry's dislike of John was evident, but was the General really so petty as to deny John access to something that wouldn't exist without him simply because of a difference in character? It seemed far fetched, even to John, who had spent years with beings capable of evil for far more trivial reasons.

Was there something else? Was the General planning something he didn't want John involved in? His years in space had made John automatically suspicious of everyone, and the thought of foul play was second nature.

While Aeryn was scarce, Leslie seemed to almost shadow John, her sharp intellectual mind hungering for all the information on Earth she could get. It was disquieting to him, this young girl with so many of Aeryn's traits, who managed to be so strikingly different all at the same time.

One late afternoon, a week after the reunion, John was sitting in the courtyard that all three units shared, his head bent over work. Although it seemed unlikely it would be necessary short term, he figured Moya and her crew would eventually want to leave, and he thought if he started the calculations now, he might be somewhere closed to finished by the time this was all over. It had been a long time since he'd struggled with wormhole theory, and it wasn't coming back to him as quickly as he'd thought it would.

Leslie sat on the floor - a habit picked up from her mother – and was intently studying a small, black device the shape of a rectangle. It was about the size of her palm with a long rectangular screen across the top and a spray of numbers and letters underneath. He'd never seen it before, but she seemed engrossed, her fingers toying earth made headphones snaking from the device.

"Leslie..."

She looked up, her long black hair falling across her face, hiding the youth of her features. John felt his heart constrict. At that second she looked so much like Aeryn... although the woman he loved was within his reach physically, she was more distant emotionally as he'd ever seen her.

And he still couldn't figure out why.

"Out with it Crichton, I'm not getting any younger."

John chuckled, unsure of why he'd disturbed her. Her eyes seemed to be reaching inside of him and reading his soul. He glance back down at the butches paper in front of him, a maze of numbers and lines that no sane person should be able to understand. He was so sick of it. Sick of his life here on Earth, sick of being hunted in the stars. Sick of missing Aeryn, even though she was right in front of him... the list went on, "Do you know much? About all this?" he waved his hand over his work.

Leslie snorted again, her prime expression of mirth, "It's all I know. My entire life has been looking for Wormholes. Looking for you." She shrugged, going back to the device in front of her, almost as if she felt she'd said too much.

"And before?" John prodded gently, "Before you were born I mean? Do you know..."

"That D'argo, Chiana and Rygel were escaped prisoners? That it's your fault my mother was expelled from the Peacekeepers?" her eyes flicked up, but there was no malice behind her words, just simple facts, "I pick things up. I know you were..." she paused, "...Together."

John swallowed, knowing he shouldn't be asking, but the questions were burning in his mouth, "She seems... sad."

A small smile crossed her face, privy to something he would never know, "She thought you were dead. I was young, I don't really remember... but Chiana says she took it kind of hard." Leslie seemed to study the device in front of her for a long moment, and then spoke without looking at him, "I think she was in love with you."

"I know she was." John responded instantly. His question now though, was did she love him still? "Leslie..." John couldn't stop the words from forming, even though he knew he shouldn't be asking. Not asking her, at least, "...did Aeryn ever talk to you... about who your father was?"

Leslie's eyes shot up, her brow knitted tightly together. A very long moment passed before she spoke, intuitively knowing why he was asking, "She says you're not him." Came the simple sentence, sending a stomach twisting emotion through the centre of John's being. Leslie's dark eyes studied him, "I think she knew you were going to ask... she told me just before we landed here."

John nodded, somewhat subdued, another piece of the puzzle thudding into place. Aeryn had been worried from the onset about how he'd react if the child she carried hadn't been his. He knew six years of mulling over the idea that he'd reject either of them at the news was a long time. She's obviously convinced herself he wouldn't be happy.

As Leslie went back to her work, John studied her from the corner of his eye, trying to imagine life with this miniature Aeryn. Aeryn assured him she hadn't been with anyone else since they'd been together, and he trusted her on that. He couldn't fault Aeryn for something that happened long before they'd met, no more then he could fault Leslie. She wasn't _his_ child... but she was Aeryn's. And he loved Aeryn, and so he loved her child.

Now all he had to do was convince Aeryn of that.

However, a large military force heading in his direction from space, left time to talk to a bare minimum.

----

John Crichton had never been in war. He'd been in confrontations, skirmishes, fire fights. He'd fought for his life, and he'd risked himself for others. For strangers.

But he had never felt the mind numbing fear of war.

He had learnt that to humans, war was a game. Deadly, and uncompromising... but a game just the same. And with every game came rules. Civilians were off limits, for example. Although civilian casualties existed, it was well known that civilians didn't interest the military very much, unless they posed an obstacle for military advantage.

In space, these rules did not exist. When the Molarens came, they were indiscriminate. Civilians, woman, children, the elderly: all were fair game. The attack was swift and they were not simply waging war. They were exterminating life.

And the bomb designed to stop them in their tracks still wasn't complete.

When the Molarens attacked, all and any official involved with the device simply disappeared, Aeryn included. John could get no information from anyone on it's current status. He didn't know if they were simply days away from completion, or months.

The latter he didn't really want to think about.

And so it began.

----

The eradication of the human race was a slow, but steady process. The Molarens were in no way military genius', relying rather on strength of numbers and superiority in arms over tactics. Unfortunately for the humans, they had both in abundance.

They landed and deployed their troops swiftly, and it was a bare week before they swarmed into John's neighbourhood.

The street's were deserted when John finally left his home. Evacuations had been carried out hours before, while mere blocks down the road, he could hear sounds of the fighting. The humans were throwing everything they had at the invaders, and doing a good job at holding them at bay. John knew though, that over time, the Molarens would over run the humans and slowly move over the continent like a plague.

"Where are we going?" Chiana was on his left, keeping pace. D'argo was behind him, and Leslie was strategically placed in between them all. Stark was to Chiana's left, the Nebari keeping a firm hand on his arm to ensure he was following. Rygel trailed behind.

"Back to the military base." John answered, his eyes sweeping the streets. Looters were rampant and those that hadn't heeded the governments warnings to leave the area were trigger happy. Although the Molarens looked as unhuman as a Roswell alien, he was sure someone would mistake him for one and shoot him before they realised their mistake. That, or D'argo's presence would send someone into a frenzied panic, "The transport pod is still in the hanger. You guys can head back to Moya."

"You're not coming with us?"

John glanced behind him at Leslie, "I'm going to find Aeryn."

"If they'd finished the device, they would have used it." D'argo argued, "Something's obviously gone wrong."

"Exactly. And either I can help fix it, or I can make sure Aeryn doesn't die alone on a planet she knows nothing about."

"I'm coming with you."

John cut Leslie off before she'd even finished her sentence, "No, you're not. You're going with D'argo and Chiana and you're getting off this rock."

"She's my _mother_ Crichton. And she may not be dead, because if she were, you wouldn't be looking for her. I'm not going to leave her behind."

John instantly recognised Aeryn's stubbornness in her daughter. He didn't have the strength to resist, "What about the rest of you then?"

"Chiana, take Stark and Rygel and go back to Moya..."

"Oh no!" Chiana shook her head at D'argo, "There is no way you are leaving me alone with these two frelling idiots."

Rygels protest was over powered by D'argo, "It's too dangerous down here Chiana." He looked directly at her, "And I want you safe."

"What about you? Is it safe for you? I'd rather die down here with you, then live up there without you."

John realised suddenly the depth of changed that had happened to Chiana in the six years since he'd known her last. The Chiana of days past would have happily hightailed out of the danger zone.

"Rygel?"

"Yes... well uh... someone needs to... look after Stark." Came the stuttered reply. John was glad enough to know that some things never did change.

"Right... so Sparky here takes Stark back to Moya. We find Aeryn, fix this goddamn device..."

"...and we all live happily ever after." Chiana finished with a grin, though John could see the nervousness behind her short laugh.

"Maybe." Was John's mumbled response. He looked at D'argo, "You sure you're ready for this big guy? This isn't exactly your fight."

"It's _our_ fight." The Luxan corrected him, and apparently that was all he planned to say on the matter. He gave John a tight smile, and it was enough. John knew the other man would stick by him.

They continued through the streets, keeping to the back alleys and trying to avoid being noticed. The sounds of fighting dimmed the further inland they went, but the military base was a hive of activity.

John flashed his pass, and the aliens had unrestricted access, even though they had all been ordered to evacuate with all the other non essential personal days before. No one paid them too much notice until John reached the officer barracks. Sending Rygel and Stark on their way towards the hanger and the transport pod, the remainder of Moya's crew rounded on Major General Harry Blakes office.

The door stood shut, and two guards flanked either side of it, weapons held over their chest. John didn't break his stride.

"I'm sorry sir." The guard on the left spoke, his Sergeant stripes putting him over the Private on the right, "The General is not to be disturbed."

"He does know there is a war going on out there, right?"

"Of that fact the General is very aware."

John searched his memory for the Sergeants name, "Lean right? Nathan Lean?"

A sharp nod, "Yes Commander."

"Nathan, you have to let me in there. You know I can help with what's been going on. But I need the General to tell me where they've gone."

"Respectfully sir," Lean's eyes flicked to his, hard and cold, "I've told you once. Don't make me tell you again."

John grimaced in what may have passed for a smile, turning on his heel. He nodded to D'argo, and then completed a circuit, ending back in front of Lean. However, this time John's fist was raised and he embedded it in the other mans face. Beside him, D'argo did the same to the Private, John's head nod being the indication the Luxan needed to take action.

The Private dropped like a sack of bricks, but Nathan Lean came back up swinging - with the butt of his gun.

He caught John in the stomach, while Leslie, who'd manoeuvred herself to the Sergeants far right, clocked him over the back of the head with the butt of her weapon.

Both Lean and John collapsed, John with a strangled grunting sound, the Sergent out cold.

Leslie extended a hand, "You okay?"

John uncurled, one arm protectively around his middle the other reaching out to grab the girls hand, "Yeah." It came out more as a breath of air, "Fine... thanks... where did you get that?"

Leslie looked at the pulse pistol in her hand, then back up at John, "Aeryn."

"She let you have a gun?" in the same breath, he turned accusing eyes at D'argo, "You let her have a _gun_?!"

D'argo's hands went up in defence, "She _is_ Aeryn's child."

"Peacekeeper genetics, remember? This is what I was born for. Don't go all paternal on me Crichton, or I'll leave you next to the good Sergeant here and go find Aeryn on my own."

John shook his head in wonder, "You really are her daughter aren't you? This is insane, you're six years old, for crying out loud."

Even as he spoke, he was moving into position in front of the door, and Leslie only had time to flash him a brilliant smile before he pushed open the door.

What they found in the office no one expected.


	4. Chapter 4

The General's head whipped up at the sound of the door with what John could only describe as a 'deer in headlights' look. However, being a General, he recovered quickly, reacting to the shock of four uninvited guests in his office long before John's brain could even put all the pieces together.

As John remembered it, the entire scene came to him in distinct flashes. The General, shocked - he wasn't supposed to be disturbed. A plant identical to the one in his Warehouse office withering - no one had bothered to water it since the invasion started. A desk, a mess - someone had been looking for something in a hurry. A large briefcase sat in the middle, open, partly full of folders.

And on the floor to the left lay Aeryn, gagged, hands cuffed behind her back, legs bound, bright eyes shining, bruises marring what little skin John could see.

This all only took a second for John to see, process, and react, but the General was ahead of him, and by the time John tore his eyes from Aeryn, he was looking down the barrel of the General's gun. Which was pointed inches from his face, right between his eyes.

"You took longer then I expected." The General said casually, throwing a warning glance at D'argo and the others. John hoped they heeded the unspoken command and that no one wanted to become a hero - he was awfully close to the General's trigger finger.

"Yeah, I think my invitation got lost in the mail." John responded, taking his eyes off the gun to glare at the General, "You should have called."

"You know what it's like Commander. No one has time for etiquette anymore."

John glanced at Aeryn, "So I've seen. Want to tell me exactly what the hell it is you're doing?"

"No. I don't believe I do." The General moved back, his gun still trained on John, "Untie her legs." He gestured to Aeryn, "If anyone moves," he spoke mostly to D'argo, Chiana and Leslie, "I'll shoot someone."

John did as he was bid, bending down next to Aeryn, "You okay?" he whispered.

She nodded, her eyes like ice. He was pretty sure she was livid. He placed his hand on her ankle and squeezed tightly, hoping she understood the calming gesture, then went to work on the rope around her feet. It didn't take him long to undo her, and with a nod from the General, he helped her to her feet. The General then 'shooed' him away with his gun. John retreated back across the room and stood next to D'argo as the General, picking up the briefcase on the table, moved to Aeryn.

"Move towards the door." He instructed her, keeping her between himself and John. They'd taken two steps when a high pitch shrieking sounded from the speakers imbedded in the roof.

The General froze, his attention divided. It was all the opening Aeryn needed. She lent forward, then wrenched her head back, connecting the back of her head with the bridge of his nose.

John barely heard the sickening crack of the General's nose breaking as he pulled out his weapon. Aeryn dropped to her knee's, then - as gracefully as one can manage in handcuffs - tucked in her shoulder and rolled forwards.

Recovering, the General brought up his own gun, but it was too late. D'argo opened his mouth and his tongue shot out to catch the General on his temple. The man dropped without a sound.

John rushed to Aeryn's side, removing her gag and helping her to his feet.

Her face was hard, but there was amusement in her voice, "Thank you."

John grinned, "You're welcome." He directed his next comment to D'argo, "Grab him."

D'argo looked down in distaste at the General, "Why?"

"Because..." John was yelling over the alarm that continued to deafen them all, "... I want to know just what the hell he was trying to pull. Besides," John reached the door way, a steadying hand on Aeryn's arm, "He's probably got the keys to Aeryn's cuffs."

It was the latter argument that won D'argo over, who slung the limp General over his shoulder with ease. The group left the office - the two guards who had been guarding the entrance were gone.

"Uh... Crichton." Chiana poked his shoulder, "What the frell is that noise?"

"Evacuation." John was already moving, swift strides towards the exit, "I think those mind-link fella's are getting cocky. We've got to get out of here before they show up."

"And then what?"

John turned to Aeryn, "What happened with the device?"

"It's been finished." They reached human traffic, civilians running about in a mad frenzy, against the more organised - but no less frenzied - military personal trying to flee, but no one paid them much attention, everyone focused on saving their own selves. No one seemed to notice the unconscious General on D'argo's shoulder.

"What?"

"I was on my way back to tell you when this fekkik cold cocked me from behind. It's been charging up for arns." She stumbled, but John's hand didn't stray far from her arm, catching her and steadying her. They barely broke their stride, "It shouldn't be long now."

John swore. This really was getting too much for him. He didn't bother wasting his breath letting the others know what he thought of the whole situation. That could come later. Right now, he needed to get them all to safety before whatever had triggered those sirens showed up.

They reached the outside, John's eyes automatically scanning the heavens, but there were no planes in sight. He dropped his gaze, but the horizon afforded nothing but a few hangers and bushland further out.

"Common." He started at a jog, mindful of Aeryn's limited movement and D'argo's cargo.

"Where too?"

"Somewhere that isn't here."

Something exploded, somewhere to their left. They didn't see it, but John certainly heard it, the shock wave blasting them all off their feet. He landed heavily, jarring his wrist, his head smacking dully against a large piece of metal that could have once been apart of anything from a high powered aircraft to a coffee machine. A full minute passed while he lay on the ground, contemplating the cloudless sky above him, enjoying the dizzying task of counting the jumble of black spots in front of his eyes.

A rough hand shook him, "John... get up."

He blinked, shaking the spots from his vision and looked up into the hard eyes of Aeryn Sun, "What?"

She hauled him to his feet - he was too dazed to even think to ask how she'd gotten her cuffs off - and he half stumbled a few paces before gaining his wits enough to take in his surroundings. That's when he noticed the General on the ground a few feet from him, a gaping wound present where another chuck of metal had skewered him through the shoulder.

Wincing, John dropped to his knee's next to the older man, quickly assessing the other mans' injuries. He was pretty certain the General wasn't coming back from this one.

Harry Blake was conscious, staring up at John with pain behind his eyes.

"So tell me." John pressed his hand against his forehead where he'd hit it, trying to quell the thudding headache. His ears were ringing and he shouted to hear his own voice above it, sure the General and the others must be similarly deafened. To their left, he could hear the faint noise of a fire raging, "Why Aeryn?"

"Oh John." The General's voice was weak, "My last..." he sucked in a lung full of air, his words disjointed, "…few minutes alive and you want me to spend it explaining to you what you should already have figured out?"

"Money?"

If the General laughed, it was covered up by his coughing fit, which jarred him enough to cry out in pain. John pushed his good shoulder against the ground to steady him, "Why then?"

"Open your eyes Commander." Although barely above a whisper, John could hear him perfectly, the background noises suddenly a million miles away, "She's an alien. It's a goddamn extra terrestrial. Have you any idea what she could teach us? These aliens that have attacked us, do you really believe they will be the only ones?" his eyes flicked to Aeryn, who stood behind Johns back, watching with a mask of tightly controlled fury, "The government wanted to _release_ them. To let them return to their _spaceship_! Wanted to deny the human race of the technology..." his voice was fading, his body dying as he justified his actions. "I couldn't let that happen."

John's retort was lost on the General, who died without so much as a whimper. John didn't spend a lot of time reflecting, Aeryn pulling him to his feet as the sounds of fighting once again reached them.

"Where do we go?" Chiana looked at him, and even though her voice had raised several octaves, her eyes remained hard. There was little panic there.

John, however, couldn't stop his thoughts long enough to come up with an actual plan. Rygel and Stark would probably be halfway back to the Uncharted Territories with Moya by now, he didn't want to rely on the Hinerian to actually come back to rescue them. All they could really do was start running. Try to keep enough distance between themselves and the conflict not to get caught in the cross fire.

Although there was a part of John that felt he should face these invading aliens head on - pick up a gun and fight for his planet - it was easily overruled by his need to protect his old shipmates. And Leslie. He still felt that this wasn't their fight, and he didn't want to endanger any of them unnecessarily. Once he had them safe, he'd find another way to help planet Earth. Not that he particularly felt fond of Earth at this moment, he knew he couldn't condemn the entire world just because his government treated him like an infant.

Instead of answering Chiana, he took off in a direction opposite to that which the invading army was coming, knowing his plan - or lack thereof - wouldn't hold up during a group discussion.

He had, however, forgotten what Aeryn had told him about the device...

_"It shouldn't be long now."_

...And so it was a complete and utter surprise when it went off. He wasn't sure what it was at first. The entire world seemed to pause. For just a moment in time everything froze and the senses disappeared. Sound, touch, taste, smell. The wind died. The sun suddenly became dull. And the Earth, assaulted by some unseen force, _shuddered_.

John felt the tremor beneath his feet, as if it were a living being.

He shot fearful eyes towards Aeryn, uncomprehending, but the love of his life was moving swift. She grabbed her daughter, Aeryn's strong arms wrapping tightly around the girls head as they crouched down. Neither knew what was coming, but had decided to present the smallest target possible. Leslie's arms wrapped tightly around her mother, and John, not knowing really how he'd gotten there, fell to his knees between them both. Aeryn's eyes flicked to his as John's arms came around them both, and he felt her uncertainty.

Then the sound started. It's beginning was small, a gentle rumble from miles away, but as the seconds passed it grew. Like some animal racing across the landscape, it rose in pitch and intensity, heading towards them with a force of which John had never experienced before. It ripped through him, he could feel it in his soul. It rattled his teeth and had, for some inexplicable reason, weight, crushing him against Aeryn and her daughter. And then, as quickly as it had come, it stopped.

Slowly, normal sounds started to drift back to John's awareness. The fire, crackling away as it consumed the building. The evacuation siren, still demanding it be obeyed. John looked down at Aeryn, her face pale and her eyes wide. She'd felt it too.

He asked a silent question, and she nodded her response. She was unhurt. As Aeryn turned towards her daughter, John stood up, his eyes sweeping over the area. D'argo and Chiana were a few feet from them, still huddled together on the cold concrete. They seemed okay, and D'argo was already pulling Chiana to her feet. She seemed unsteady, but John trusted enough that D'argo would take care of her.

Without a word John started back towards where he'd heard the fighting. Moments later he felt Aeryn a step behind him, Leslie keeping pace by her side. John glanced at the young girl, but she seemed unfazed by the turn of events. She was certainly cut from a different cloth then most children he knew.

They reached the area beyond the buildings, rounding a crest, and John stopped abruptly. Before them, spread out over a large clearing originally designed for aircraft, stood the front line. A sea of people from both sides - alien and human, made for a scene out of some movie, two factions engaged in deadly battle. He'd never seen anything quite like it.

He turned his eyes to Aeryn, "They're supposed to dead." He said mildly.

Although they looked groggy, and a few had fallen to their knee's, the majority of the alien army was still fighting strong, taking full advantage of the human's slow recovery time after the device exploded. If anything, the device had served to help the invading army.

John looked back at the mess of people, his eyes seeing so many dead under foot, "My god." He breathed, suddenly realising the implications of the weapon they'd laboured so hard to bring into fruition not working, "It's not my fault..." He looked back at Aeryn, "It's not my fault!"

"How isn't this your fault?" she asked, her voice hard.

"It was D'argo's plan!"

Aeryn rolled her eyes as Leslie threw up her hands, ""I knew it!" she turned to her mother and their eyes locked, "I _told_ you!" without another word, she turned on her heel and started at a jog back towards the military base.

"Told you what?!" John called after Aeryn as she ran after her daughter. He caught up to her, "What did she know?"

Leslie answered, "I _knew_ it wasn't going to work."

"And you're only telling me this _now_?!" John grabbed Aeryn's arm, stopping her, "You knew?!"

"Leslie suspected." Aeryn glanced at her daughter, who had stopped a few feet from them, waiting, "The Pupdar told us it was going to work. And we had no reason to think they were lying." At John's continued look of disbelief, she continued, "Tell me _you_ would have believed her."

"Not lying." Leslie corrected her mother, "Just mis-informed. Common, we don't have much time."

"This is just great." John ran his hand through his hair, "Where are we going?"

"To save this pathetic bit of rock that you call home Crichton." Leslie stated walking again, "I really don't want to spend the rest of my life with out a fresh supply of chocolate."

John, Aeryn, D'argo, Chiana and Leslie 'borrowed' a government car from the Military Base, driving through the deserted streets to where the command post was. It was where the device had been set up and broadcasted from, where John has spent the majority of his time on Earth. It was where the General had kidnapped Aeryn from, and where the biggest onset of panic was now in full swing.

The military commanders had received word that the device hadn't worked. They had already started recalling troops, and John caught the word 'nuclear strike' being bandied about the moment he stepped through the door.

If he felt worried before, now he wasn't sure how he didn't manage to end up comatose.

He knew if his own military didn't launch a nuclear strike soon, any number of neighbouring nations was sure too. They wouldn't wait for the aliens to finish with America and start on them before attacking .

"Whatever you are going to do." John told Leslie as they hurried through the complex, "You better do it fast."

"You know I can't guarantee this'll work."

"Yeah, but a plan that _might_ work is a lot better then no plan at all."

The room the device had been housed in was deserted. John wasn't surprised, the small box of coloured lights was possibly now the most useless thing on the planet. He sent D'argo and Chiana out to guard the entrance anyway. He was sure, that if nothing else, at least one person in this complex was very angry at him.

He looked down over Leslie, who'd crouched by the device, her fingers pulling out cables. From her pocket, she pulled out the same rectangular device he'd seen her with earlier.

"So uh... what, exactly, is that?" He wondered how it was going to manage to save them all.

Leslie paused long enough to stare at him, looking at him like maybe HE was the twelve year old, "It's a cell phone Crichton..."

"Right." He glared, "Let me ask you another question. Why use a cell phone?"

"Because it's easier to hook up then an iPod. Look, the device the Pupdar gave you? It's pretty much an exotic version of anything that plays wave lengths... you know, sound, music..." She placed the phone on the ground next to her while she was working, "Except, you know, alien and able to destroy entire invading armies. The thing is, the Molarens are an evolving species. This device…" She pointed to the one the Pupdar had given them, "..is, I think, an exact copy of the one they used on their planet six cycles ago. _Just_ before they died, the Molarens were able to send out a warning to the rest of their race. Let them know exactly what it was that was killing them. So the Molarens built up an immunity."

John's glare had turned in to a concentrated frown, "How do you _know_ all this?"

The girl shrugged, "There isn't a lot of stuff to do on Moya, except for all the information she's got tucked away inside of her. Pilot likes to share."

"Peacekeeper children are designed to _want_ to learn." Aeryn elaborated, "The only thing Leslie had to learn was what Moya could teach."

"Lucky for us it was something we could use."

Leslie continued to concentrate on her work, "The device works on a sort of frequency. Although it's a little more complicated, basically the Molarens were wiped out the first time by low pitched oscillations. The sound mixed in with their brain chemistry, with the part of them that makes them telepathic, and basically made there heads implode."

"Except now it doesn't work."

"Except now the _low_ pitched oscillations don't work. I'm pretty sure..." she paused to pick up the phone, now integrating the tiny device with the alien one, "...that something a little higher pitched might."

"_Might_?"

She focused on John again, "I did tell you I couldn't guarantee anything."

John rubbed his lip with this thumb, such an familiar unconscious gesture that it made Aeryn smile, "Do their heads actually explode? 'Cause I don't want to hang around here for the clean up."

Leslie shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips, "I think it happens inside."

"That's good to know." John turned to Aeryn, "When this thing goes off, I don't think you should hang around."

"Why not?"

"Harry isn't the only unscrupulous guy on this planet. Someone else is bound to have had the same idea." He took Aeryn's elbow and led her a few feet from Leslie, dropping his voice, "You know it's not safe here. I think you should head back to Moya."

"I can take care of myself and my daughter Crichton."

John smiled ruefully, as if remembering just how capable she was, "I know you can. But enough people have died today. I don't want them to give you an excuse to kill any more."

Aeryn studied him a long moment, "Alright. Once the bomb goes off, we'll get out of here."

"One more thing."

Aeryn waited.

"I'm coming with you."

"...I thought you might."

John glanced back over at Leslie, who was still busy with the two devices, "Is that okay?"

Aeryn waited a beat, studying the man as he studied her daughter, "Things aren't the same John."

"I know." He looked back at her, "But I still want to come with you. Back to Moya. Earth and I... we don't fit anymore."

She smiled at that, but any response she had was cut off by Leslie, "That's done it." She got off her knees and looked down to admire her handy work. John took a few steps towards her and looked as well. The phone didn't resemble a phone so much now as just a bit of plastic tubing with a myriad of coloured wires snaking from it.

"How long?"

Leslie shrugged, "It still needs to charge. A few arns maybe."

"Alright. In the mean time, Aeryn, why don't you try reaching Rygel? Get him to bring the Transport Pod back down here. Stay close to D'argo and Chiana, I don't want to be looking for you when it's time to leave."

Aeryn's hands settled on her hips, "What will you be doing?"

"There's some stuff I've got to do before we leave, and I've got to work out the rest of those Wormhole calculations." John was already moving, back towards the entrance where D'argo and Chiana were keeping watch, but Aeryn's voice stopped him.

"John. If anyone recognises you out there... you know mine isn't the only head they're going to be after."

John stopped. He knew she was right, but before he could speak, Leslie cut him off, "I want to go with you."

"No."

John and Aeryn spoke in unison. They spared a moment to share a look, John's with amusement, Aeryn's edging on something the other couldn't quite identify.

It was Aeryn that continued, stating in no uncertain terms exactly why Leslie was going to stay behind with D'argo and Chiana. She accepted the command with defiance still shining through her young eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

The day was drawing to a close when Leslie saw John again, he and her mother darting through the smoke that seemed now to cover the entire continent. Fires raged unchecked, the destruction becoming more widespread with every passing hour. They were holed up at John's fathers place: Jack Crichton had not been heard from since the initial skirmishes. Leslie wasn't sure if John's father was simply occupied with the current word affairs, or if something more dire had happened to him.

It wasn't a topic John seemed inclined to talk about.

Leslie came out of her hiding place scant meters from John and Aeryn as they approached. John started when he saw her, although Aeryn seemed to have already known. The young girl had been acting as a sentry, although she'd failed to mention that to anyone else inside.

"Where'd you come form?" John asked in a hushed whisper. Although the streets seemed deserted, and the fighting was a ways away from them, they had all turned painstakingly cautious.

"A planet called Belair, originally. Moya more recently, though currently I'm staying in this quaint little planet on the edge of nowhere..." Leslie trailed off when John failed to show amusement, and she glanced at her mother, "We were getting worried."

Aeryn nudged them to continue into the house, "How long before the device goes off?"

"Minutes?" Leslie speculated, "I didn't think to stick an egg timer on it. Aeryn, how long did it take last time?"

"I don't know... I was too busy being unconscious."

John let him self into the house, where D'argo and Chiana sat with Rygel and Stark. The Transport Pod was conspicuously parked in the backyard... destroying a few fences and the next door neighbours dog house in the process, "Don't you ever call her mom?" he enquired.

"When it suits my mood." Came back Leslie's response, as Aeryn left them both to disappear around the other side of the house.

She'd been strangely quiet since John had expressed his wish to return with them back to Moya. For the first time in a very long time, John couldn't read exactly what was wrong with her.

He wondered what was upsetting her, the words 'things are different now' disturbing him the most. Did she perhaps have someone waiting for her on Moya? He wondered if he could survive, living with her again, without actually being able to have her. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't expect anything from her when they returned to space. He had secret notions of getting her alone and reminding her exactly what she had fallen in love with the first time. But if she was with someone?

The thought made his breath catch in his throat. Being around Aeryn again was slowly killing him. All he wanted to do was to hold her. To breathe in her scent again. His body ached for her. Although the thought of living out the remainder of his life just watching her from a distance made him hurt just that little bit harder, the thought of living without even seeing her, ever again, did things to him he couldn't focus on for too long.

He was whipped. He knew it. But he wouldn't have it any other way... all he needed though was Aeryn back.

---

John had figured out the wormhole equations. Had found Moya's crew a way out of this nightmare. ...Had found himself an escape from his self imposed hell.

It had struck him quite suddenly, how very much the same Earth and it inhabitants were to the rest of the galaxy. After being thrown into space and learning first hand the horrors that it held, Earth had turn into a bit of a shining beacon for him. If only he could get home, life would be perfect, because Earth wasn't full of back stabbing, traitorous monsters with no morals and full of so much greed it consumed them.

The years following his return had shed a frightening light on how just wrong he was.

So now, being back with Aeryn aside, he wanted nothing more then to return to Space. At least up there, he _knew_ he couldn't trust anyone, and didn't have to keep reminding himself. It was all too easy to forget down on the planet. And he no longer had to pretend that they could trust _him._

It was only a quarter of an hour after John and Aeryn arrived back at Jack Crichton's house that the device went off a second time, and it was fairly anticlimactic. Although they felt it, much like the first, knowing what it was and how it would effect them it didn't feel nearly as doomsday as it had previously. And so it caught them all completely off guard when they started to hear the screams.

So high pitched, it almost passed through John's range of hearing, resonating in his head like a pinball on speed, knocking his senses about until he wasn't sure which way was up and who he even was. Somehow he'd ended up on the floor, his hands scratching at his head like he could reach inside and tear the sound from it.

The back of his throat was scratchy: he realised he was screaming, although through the deafening noise in his head he couldn't hear it. It lasted for seconds, hours, lifetimes. On and on, the death cry of an entire alien race.

John couldn't tell when it finished, his senses overloaded. He lay on the ground, waiting for his brain to crawl back into his head after the sound had pushed it out. Slowly he finally became aware of his surroundings again, although the very skin of his skull ached.

Chiana was unconscious. Well... he hoped she was unconscious. He didn't want to dwell to much on the thought that she could be dead, but D'argo, who was currently hovering by her side, wasn't reacting in a way that he would have if Chiana was never going to wake up.

Leslie was a mess. John stared in a sort of muted trance, watching her writhe around like a demented fish out of water, her eyes wide like saucers, a babble of nonsense pouring over her lips. Aeryn, who currently looked like death warmed up, was doing her best to clam her daughter, but the young girl was hysterical. It was long moments before Leslie calmed enough to just cry, curling up in her mothers arms like child she really was, no matter how often John kept forgetting.

He could still feel them. The alien race had left a footprint in his mind prior to their destruction, and he found him self singing the words to Henry the Eighth I am, I am, over and over in his head to quell the residual echoes. What is was though, what Leslie was feeling so deep in her soul, was the overwhelming sense of loss. Every single Molaren had made itself known before the race had been completely wiped out, their telepathic abilities making their deaths as intimate as if they'd been family members.

John wanted nothing more then to soak in a hot bath full of water. He felt dirty. He suddenly felt like a murderer.

He staggered to his feet, checking on Chiana before sitting next to Aeryn, gently stroking Leslie's hair while she buried her hurt into Aeryn's shoulder. Aeryn turned to him, her eyes full of something he couldn't read, just watching him lend a calming presence to Leslie.

"John." She murmured his name softly, and he glanced up at her, "Let's go home."

-----

John left Earth behind. He'd found his family, explained the situation, and after the device went off, he left in the Transport Pod without a backwards glance.

Pilot was ecstatic to see him again. John spent a long time in Pilot's den; he swore he could almost _feel_the joy radiating from Moya herself. It felt good to be back on the ship. Everything had changed; and yet everything was exactly the same. Six years was a long time. He had to keep reminding himself that they'd been missing him a lot longer then he'd been missing them.

Leslie, he found with amusement, turned more into someone resembling a twelve year old on the ship then she had on earth. She showed him her quarters, which were situated a long corridor away from Aeryns, and he spent a little while admiring all of her work. She was one talented kid.

Apprehension sat on the edge of John's mind, wondering just how things would be between him and Aeryn. Without a conversation, he decided to take up residence in his old sleeping chamber, although before his return to Earth he hadn't been in a habit of frequenting it. He travelled the familiar halls his mind awash with memories, and found himself standing on the terrace, standing on the deck and just staring out - literately - into space.

It has always been his favourite place, after lying next to Aeryn to watch her while she slept. So he wasn't surprised that Aeryn knew that's where she could find him.

She stood silently next to him for a long time, the brilliance of the view was something that never got old, although it didn't take very long for John to be distracted by Aeryn's presence. The last time they had stood on this deck together, he'd been behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her, his fingers tracing obscure patterns across her belly.

...The belly that had housed Leslie. He found it amazing, the concept that the tiny life in side of Aeryn that he had obsessed over and fallen so tragically in love with just by the knowledge that it was there, had turned into Leslie.

He might not have been Leslie's biological father, but he'd had dreams of raising her as if she were. He'd wanted to teach her about Earth, and to show her the stars. He felt cheated that he'd never gotten the chance.

Already, she had turned into a miniature adult, and he'd missed out.

John glanced at Aeryn. He'd always wanted children of his own. He couldn't imagine his life with anyone _but_ Aeryn, and now he wondered if he would ever get the chance to raise one with her.

God, he had missed her.

Suddenly, he found himself peering into her dark brown eyes, shining almost black in the star light as she turned her head to look at him.

"Are you going to miss it?"

"Earth?" John shrugged, then shook his head, "I brought chocolate with me this time."

"Your family?"

He considered, not taking his eyes from her, "I accepted being up here a long time ago. I got to say goodbye this time... but I don't regret being here any more or any less then I did before I went back to Earth." He paused, then tore his eyes from hers, "You guys are my family now."

Aeryn didn't answer him for a long moment, "What do you want from me John?"

He seemed to consider this, "Nothing... that you're not willing to give."

"Do you still love me?"

He shot confused eyes at the abrupt question.

"It's a serious question John." Her voice had taken on a matter-of-fact tone, "Is that why you came back here? To get back into my pants?"

John let out a small laugh of disbelief, his tongue snaking out to lick his bottom lip. He turned away from her, hearing the bitterness in her voice, and blaming six years of separation for the cause. He regretted taking time out to save his entire planet, because he might never get back what he and Aeryn had.

And he suddenly felt shamed for thinking so selfishly, "Yes, Aeryn, I still love you." He spoke slowly, "But no. I don't want to get back into your pants. I'm kind of thinking that ship has sailed already." His voice trailed off, wistful, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"You died on me again, John."

The simple sentence sent pangs of remorse across every nerve in John's body as he recalled his earlier conversation with Leslie. He remembered what it was like when his cloned self had died on her. It had been a long time before he could convince her that loving him was more important then living in fear of loosing him. In fact, he recalled having to convince her several times during their relationship that loving him was worth all the risks. That she couldn't live with what if's if it meant she never found happiness..

He understood now. Understood why she didn't want to be with him. He'd convinced her once. He doubt he had the ability to do it again. He wasn't even sure he wanted too. He didn't think he had the right to put her through something like that again. He loved her, but maybe she would have had a better life if he hadn't.

"I understand." His voice was hitched, and he could feel tears burning in the back of his eyes. God, he was going to loose Aeryn again. For good this time. His heart was squeezing painfully inside of his chest, he thought it might burst.

He wanted nothing more then for her to leave him. He didn't want her to see what she was doing to him.

"Do you really?" she asked. She was speaking to his back, because he could not stand to face her, "Do you know what it's like to be so in love with someone even after you know that they're dead? I couldn't breathe when we came to Earth, because I _knew_ you were there and I couldn't stand the thought you might have moved on."

John spun around, his entire faced confused. He was barely breathing.

"I thought you wanted to stay. I thought there was someone else and I wanted to make it easy for you." Tears were brimming on the edge of her eyes, but her voice was steady, "I knew you were happy down there once. I didn't want to take that away from you. That's why I pretended there was nothing John."

"You thought..." John could barely talk over the fire of hope that had started to burn low in his chest. Surely, it couldn't be this simple, "You thought I would choose Earth... over you?"

She nodded, and a tear slipped from her eye. John took a step forward to catch it with his thumb, his hand trembling. Aeryn's eyes fell shut at the contact of their skin, "Oh god, Aeryn... are you serious?"

Her eyes opened still bright with unshed tears, "There's something else."

John's hands fell to her arms, one on either side, his breath heavy. The news that she still wanted him was banging away in his head demanding attention. Aeryn's presence right next to him, touching him, was effecting him so much he could hardly think, "What?"

"Leslie... she's your daughter."

She held her breath, awaiting his reaction, and John physically lost the ability breathe in the same second, causing an unnatural stillness to fall between them. The tension coated both of them.

When he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse, "I'm her dad?"

Aeryn barely nodded.

"Does she know?" he was still holding her, his fingers had driven in to the soft flesh of her arm.

"I didn't keep it a secret."

Moments flashed into John's head. Leslie shadowing him. Aeryn's curiosity to his reaction when she introduced them. The hushed conversations between shipmates.

It made sense now. They'd all known.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Aeryn could feel John shaking through their contact. She was wary and on guard, trying to anticipate what his reaction would be. She thought he would be happy. But at the moment his voice was cold and hard and not like the man she knew at all, "I couldn't. That knowledge would have kept you here against you're will."

Another long moment passed, then the information truly seemed to sink in. Leslie was _his_. He had a daughter. A beautiful, intelligent, witty daughter with the woman of his dreams.

Without warning, John 'whooped', grabbing Aeryn around the waist and lifting her off her feet. He twirled them, listening to the sound of Aeryn's laughter mixed in with his own.

John settled Aeryn back on her feet, looking down at her, his face alight with more then just the stars shining down on them. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and she practically melted against his chest, fitting her body perfectly against his like she had so many cycles ago. His hands found her hair, tangling his fingers through the familiar strands, breathing in deep her scent, "I missed you." He said hoarsely.

"I missed you." She echoed, her arms going around his. She waited while he processed all that he'd been told, feeling his heartbeat hammering against his chest. Against her.

John realised he wasn't even angry at her. Neither of them had ever been particularly smart when it had come to their relationship. It seemed fitting, this latest hurdle.

He pulled away from her, one hand finding her waist, the other coming to cup her face, his fingers in her hair and this thumb on her cheek, resting on the tears. He fell into her eyes, "Don't ever think I wouldn't want you Aeryn." He murmured, "I love you... and I'm not going to let you go again."

Aeryn closed her eyes, like his words were a lifeline she'd been dying to hear.

John's fingers were gently stroking her skin, "Was there anyone else?"

She shook her head, her eyes opening to stare into his, "I love you."

John stepped forward, closing the gap between them and capturing her lips with his own, holding her against him while he poured his soul into her. His love. His life. There was nothing he'd wanted to do for the past three years except hold Aeryn again. His fingers took on a life of their own, skimming lightly across every inch of bare flesh they could find.

He was lost for eternity in the moment, knowing that there was _nothing_ else in the entire galaxy that could compare the woman he loved in his arms.

Aeryn broke away first, gasping for air. Her eyes were alight with promise, her grin wicked and sultry, "_Six_ cycles John." Her voice was husky, "That's a lot of build up."

His smile was disbelieving at his good fortune as he cupped both her cheeks with his hands and kissed her again. His hands started from there, then started to roam, reacquainting himself with her familiar curves, while his tongue duelled with hers. She was hungry for him, her impatient hands tugging at his shirt while he traced his fingers along the waist band of her pants.

Their kisses turned hot and short, open mouthed and full of their lust. John's hands were under Aeryn's top, his fingers mapping the unfamiliar of her abdomen. Her stomach had lost none of it's firmness from childbirth, but Leslie had stretched it to a different shape just the same.

His lips left her mouth, trailing along her jaw before he worried the pulse point on her neck with this tongue. She murmured against his hair, her fingers finding the back of his neck while she bent her head back.

Nipping gently on her earlobe with his teeth, he let his hands wander further upwards, but suddenly Aeryn's hands clamped firmly on his wrists.

He pulled away to look at her, once again wondering at her strange fetish of getting him going, only to stop him cold, "What?" he breathed. He was barely inches from her, his body still pressed up against her, only his face distance enough so he could talk to her.

"Not here." She commanded him softly.

Johns fingers, which had dropped to her waist after his aborted attempt to find her breasts, tightened against her skin, "Stalling?" he asked, only half mocking.

Aeryn pushed her hips a little tighter against him, moving them in a slow circle, her eyes hard on his as they fluttered shut. His hands clenched tighter on her waist as he wished she would stop, and hoped that she never would at the same time, "Our daughter..." She whispered words that sent an entirely different feeling through John's body, "...is very inquisitive."

He grinned at her. Grinned at the thought of his daughter walking in on her parents, "Maybe you're right."

She nodded with a cute little grin, causing John to kiss her again. A long moment passed while John fought for control to just let her go. Her hips were doing unforgivable things against him, and he was starting to forget why they needed to go inside.

He couldn't remember how they made it to Aeryn's sleeping chambers. And he couldn't figure out how they managed to avoid every one of Moya's crew getting there. And to this day, he still can't find that shirt. But he remembered every sweet second he spent making love to Aeryn Sun. He remembered the way their bodies fell instantly in sync with each other, like they'd been doing it all their lives.

He remembered the way his name fell off Aeryn's lips, the way he'd almost burst with his love for her. And he remembered, long after the ship had settled in sleep, as Aeryn lay against his chest, his arm securely around her, how he'd asked her if she would marry him.

And he remembered how she said yes.

---

John stood at the threshold of Leslie's sleeping quarters, just watching the young girl. Watching his daughter. She slept peacefully, sprawled out over the covers, her breathing soft and even. He wondered at all the things he'd missed during her childhood, and at all the things yet to come.

She stirred, and he held his breath. In sleep, she looked so much younger, without the look of a child who's had to grow up too fast.

Leslie's eyes blinked open and she studied him for a long moment before she spoke, "Did she tell you?"

John nodded solemnly, unsure of the reception he would receive from this young girl. She'd known all along he was her father, and she'd been inanely curious about him during their time on Earth, but he didn't know how he'd measured up.

The young girl sat up, her long black hair sticking out at angles. He smiled at the thought. Aeryn's hair - even Aeryn's bed hair - was always perfect. It seemed Leslie had inherited his side of the families genes when it came to hair growth.

"Aeryn said..." she paused, then started playing with the threads of a knitted blanket she'd brought back from Earth with her, worrying the ends, "Mom said I shouldn't get my hopes up when you found out... she said you might not wanna be my father." Her eyes shot up, "Which is okay. You know.. I get it, 'cause you didn't know..."

"Hey." He stopped her ramblings, and moved to sit down on the bed next to her. His eyes studied the touches she'd made to the room to make it hers. To get a sense of her personality. For all that she seemed self assured when they were down on Earth, her room spoke volumes of her youth. He finally turned to speak to her, "When Aeryn found out she was pregnant, it didn't matter to me then that I might not be your dad..." he kept his eyes trained on her face, even while she was intently studying the patterns on the blanket, "I was going to take care of you. When I met you, and you told me I wasn't your dad... that didn't matter either." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, "I... I thought you were my kid anyway. I wanted you to be. I wanted to be a good dad... just because I wasn't responsible for you being here... didn't mean I wasn't gonna treat you like my own."

Leslie peeked up at him through her eyelids, caught on every word.

"I love your ma. And I made this promise that I was gonna take care of both of you, no matter what." He smiled then, if purely in disbelief that it was all actually happening, "I know I haven't been around... so if you want me to back off I will. But... if it's okay with you... I asked Aeryn to marry me. D'you think that'll be okay?"

Leslie, with a quiver of a smile on her lips, nodded her head.

"I want to be your dad as well. If you'll let me."

Leslie's smile blossomed through the tears that lit up her eyes, enough of an acceptance that she didn't need to speak. She crawled to where he sat and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in the crook where his shoulder met his throat. John closed his eyes, turning into her embrace and held his daughter. He breathed in the unfamiliar scent, committed it to memory, his hand stroking her long hair.

"Your gonna have to help me." He whispered to her, "I've never had a kid before."

Leslie squeezed him tighter, "I've never had a dad before." She whispered back, "We can learn together."

_Fin_

-----

Please be kind. And please review! From the mouth of Mathew Riley—

"To anyone who knows a writer, never underestimate the power of your encouragement."


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